RPlog:Simon and Satine
Medical Lab All of the latest medical technology is available here, from specialized bacta tanks to superior diagnostic tubes, and the pharmacy alone is enough to treat likely every disease known or dreamt of. Everything is kept in pristine condition, the room perfectly white and sterilized. Hanging by the door are several gowns, suits, caps and gloves. There is even a small quarantine section and a separate operating room for more exploratory and delicate work that requires surgery. A lab as well as a diagnostic office, there is the technology and equipment to study and fabricate as needed. Satine Poise. Confidence. A nearly regal bearing. Satine carries herself with a grace that can only be bred into a woman, signifying both high social status and significant training. Her body is that of a dancer's with a figure that is sweetly if subtly curved, a long slender frame that moves with willowy gestures that belies the tensile strength beneath. Her clothing in turn is simple and elegant - long lines, closely tailored skirts and blouses, fine fabrics, delicate and refined jewelry that bespeaks of both money and taste. Her eyes are an arresting shade of grey, unusually pale in their tint and dramatically fringed with dark lashes. They regard the world with a cool and aloof air, though the wicked curve of her lips often adds a hint of warmth and humor to her distant features. Her hair is long and pure pale blonde silk, more often worn up in a complex arrangement at the nape of her neck. When loose however is brushes against her curved derriere with only subtle waves close to her temples to break the gleaming length of pure gold. Disliking reliance on other facilities and kindnesses, Satine has moved her unexpected patient to a new location ... the medical lab upon her own ship. Music plays lightly in the background, classical and elegant as the surgeon who studies her patient and the machinery about him with a quizzical eye. She supposes that she should in truth not be surprised, but the rate by which ratings, readings, and tests change is unlike anything in her experience. He still sleeps and as such tanks and surgical equipment that she had begun to prepare lay dormant as she simply waits. While she is confident of her skills and abilities, there is no point in doing work that is unnecessary. And if her readings are to believed, it would seem that they might very well be ... unnecessary. With a soft sigh she draws off the sterile cap from her hair, the long length of it braided and coiled atop her head. She considers the ragged man before her, wondering idly if he has ever been as clean as he is now ... new skin, regrown hair, clean cut and shaven. One corner of her mouth quirks upright. The bacta foam has long been washed away, the patient resting lightly upon an airy bed, allowing for his skin to heal more naturally now, regrowing itself at the strange accelerated rate as the rest of his injuries have been healing themselves. Indeed, it has been a very long time since Simon was as "cleaned up" as he is, now. The facial hair he'd worn since leaving his homeworld was gone now, leaving his chin and lips exposed and just slightly less tan than the rest of his face. There is also no more sign of the odd facial horns that had grown from the tips of his cheek bones. Like the rest of his injuries, they'd simply... healed... unexplicably. His breathing was slow and regulated, sounding healthy and relaxing in the way that deep slumber can lend itself contagiously to others. Dreaming whatever dreams it is that color his sort of mind, his left hand lifts lazily from the bed to rest on his chest, the fingers curled in slightly. The movement leads to a change in the rhythm of his breath, which leads to his eyes fluttering open, until finally, his brow which had been smoothed by restful tranquility furrows in a frown. He raises his left hand up higher and looks at the back of his hand as if it were not his own. He turns it over to look at his palm. Licking his lips that felt as though they were covered in a thin film of cotton, he lowers his hand back to his side and stares up at the odd ceiling above him. This did not look like the same room he'd awoken in before, with Mailyn. Stretching out with his feelings... this wasn't even the same building. "Good evening," Satine greets musically, shifting closer to Simon and leaning against a security bar at his side. "How are you feeling?" Her pale grey gaze, like incense upon the air, flickers over his frame idly as she notes, "You are recovering nicely, though I feel in truth I can take only half the credit for this. Since you shifted from critical condition to fair, it would seem that you have taken over the position of doctor and left me to play the role of spectator." Her eyebrow, slim and curious, crooks up over one eye, one corner of her mouth curling upward in a slight smile. Letting his head roll slowly in the direction of Satine's voice, Simon narrows his eyelids, willing them to focus more quickly on her face. This was the woman that had helped him, and spoken to him, politely and patiently, of the Jedi and the True Source. It was a sure bet that he owed his life to this woman. Licking his lips again... how long had he been asleep? ... he says, a concerned look in his blue-gray eyes, "Where are we? This is not the place I first awoke to. Where is Mailyn Raines?" Once he started, there seemed to be a never ending cascade of questions rolling to the surface of his mind. Schooling his features, he closes his mouth firmly to hold back the tide of questions so that Satine might have time to provide a few answers. She smiles again, though the reasons behind it remain hidden beneath her placid features. "We are aboard my ship, the Starfire. I prefer to use my own medical facilities, but I needed some assistance within the city first. As soon as you were able to be moved safely, I had you brought here." She straighten up for a moment before shifting a little closer so her pale irises might meet his blue-silver ones. "Mailyn isn't here at the moment, and I cannot say with any certainty where she is at the moment, but she will be here in a day or so to allow me to repair that which was poorly done to her in the first place." Now for a few questions of her own, "Do you know that you are repairing yourself, or does the True Source move through you and do so unconciously?" Her head quirks to one side, suggesting that there are more questions upon her lips, but they do not fall to be spoken just yet. From the look that suddenly paints across Simon's features, he hadn't been prepared for that question. Blinking, he raises both hands up and turns his eyes down so that he can look into his empty palms again. They still looked and felt strange to him. It's then that he realizes that the callouses he'd acquired through use of the staff and labor were gone. Pink, clean skin greeted his vision, without hair covering the backs of his knuckles or hands. They looked new, as if he'd been reborn. The realization only took a moment. Lowering his hands back to his sides, turning his eyes to look back into Satine's, Simon says, his slight, slurring, sing-song accent coloring his words, "It does not surprise me. The Selas seeks mastery of thier body, so that they may achieve mastery of their mind, so that they may achieve mastery of their spirit. It is the natural way of things. When you sleep, do you still breath? When I sleep, the True Source still flows through me, offering guidance and strength." She is not as surprised it would seem as he is, for she has seen both horrible and astonishing things that the Force is capable of. "Selas," she echoes, "Is this what you call yourself ... a title of what someone who believes in the True Source and can wield it is called?" Her hand lowers, brushing lightly against his arm as she notes, "This is mostly my doing .... though your body is growing new layers of skin at a rapidly accelerated rate. This however," she notes, gesturing to a display that hangs above his bed, "is what your True Source is doing ... internal bleeding is no longer an issue, perforated organs and tissues are at 85% healed and 75% capacity, bone marrow and structures, which I fortunately had placed in proper alignment, have rejoined and been recalcifying. I would say that at this rate you should be able to walk out of here functionally intact in perhaps a day." Her gaze lowers back to him with a light chuckle as she notes, "I can't decide if I should be grateful for being spared the work or worried that my talents are no longer a necessary commodity." "Selas means unborn, in my tongue," Simon says after a moment, his eyes studying the display Satine had gestured to with great dismay. Had she infected him with technological sorcery? Was that machine looking into him, soiling his insides with its foul magics? Shuddering, he tries to avoid the thought, but his mind continues conjuring imagines of sharp teethed, miniature droids, burrowing under his skin and swimming in his blood. Clearing his throat, he continues, still trying to shake the unpleasant thoughts, "Unborn. We are all given a soul from the True Source at birth, and almost everyone is severed from the Allmother at that point, just as the babe is cut from its mother. There are some of us that are not severed, however. We are an abomination, and we are drawn to do terrible evil and acts of perversion, such as what the Jedi do to people's souls, reaching into the minds of others. I have seen them rape in this way many times. The will doesn't exist in this galaxy that can resist the temptation to do such evil, it would seem." He pauses for a moment before continuing, almost in a whisper, "Not even mine." Simon blinks at Satine then, as if he'd lost focus of her during his lengthy speech. He says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a wry grin, "So you do not need to worry that your talents will become useless. Even the Jedi would not heal themselves as I do, choosing instead to pervert their bodies with machines and technologies. Their Master, Luke Skywalker, does not even bear a real hand of flesh and blood, but of wire and metal and dark magics." Long distance to Ubi_Sunt: Simon holds up. She turns to him, amused and curious that the question she had wanted to ask him now has it's opportunity to be spoken. "So you are one of these abominations then. This access to this power is unnatural. You say that the Jedi and the Sith must be destroyed ... so then I must ask, why do you get to live? Is this your quest, to be that hand of destruction? Or can you simply not bring yourself to do what you claim must be done and destroy all such abominations ... including yourself?" Slowly, a frown creases the space between and just above his eyebrows into a V, the frown starting off conveying confusion and uncertainty, swelling towards anger and resentment. Storms begin raging in his eyes as he studies Satine's face, and a muscle in his cheek twitches as he clamps his jaw shut tightly. Surely she wasn't trying to provoke him. Was she? "Do you think I am a complete fool?" Simon asks, his voice pitched low and icy. "Or perhaps you are a fool. I am not going to open my veins and pray that the True Source will guide my enemies to do the same. I am not going to lay down when the fight has just begun. Death lies at the end of my path, whichever path I take. I will be slain by those that I mean to bring to justice, or I will succeed in ridding the galaxy of the Jedi and the Sith, my reward being a quick death by my own hand. Perhaps you simply do not believe that I have the conviction to do what I say? The Jedi Orson Tighe did not believe I had such conviction, either. He ran his lightsaber through my gut and out my back, and he believed that I would simply lay down and die, defeated. It was my conviction that saw me through that fight, that gave me the strength to stay his hand long enough to carve Justice out of his hide." Her brow arches thoughtfully as she notes, "How can you? There is no way of telling how many are born without the knowledge of who they are, what they are. With or without the existance of the Sith, it is likely that some understanding of that power will come into their realization. Is it truly wise to take on a battle that you cannot win? You have already been shown that you are not powerful enough to destroy the Sith or the Jedi." She seems unimpressed and unafraid of his wrath, her words spoken calmly and coolly as she probes a clear flaw in his logic, wondering if he is too obsessed with his quest to see the truth? Would not a lasting legacy be a better one? A school? To take those who come to discover their connection to the True Source and learn how to best use it? How to be strong and not tempted to pervert it as the Sith do, and as you claim the Jedi do? If you seek to destroy the Jedi in your lifetime, what will come of those that arrive -after- your lifetime? Your ways will come and go with your death unless you provide for the future. You cannot succeed alone. Genetics, if nothing else, work against you." Her brow arches thoughtfully as she notes, "How can you? There is no way of telling how many are born without the knowledge of who they are, what they are. With or without the existance of the Sith, it is likely that some understanding of that power will come into their realization. Is it truly wise to take on a battle that you cannot win? You have already been shown that you are not powerful enough to destroy the Sith or the Jedi." She seems unimpressed and unafraid of his wrath, her words spoken calmly and coolly as she probes a clear flaw in his logic, wondering if he is too obsessed with his quest to see the truth? "Would not a lasting legacy be a better one? A school? To take those who come to discover their connection to the True Source and learn how to best use it? How to be strong and not tempted to pervert it as the Sith do, and as you claim the Jedi do? If you seek to destroy the Jedi in your lifetime, what will come of those that arrive -after- your lifetime? Your ways will come and go with your death unless you provide for the future. You cannot succeed alone. Genetics, if nothing else, work against you." Simon shakes his head, his ire fading as he listens to Satine's proposal. He had heard similar proposals from others. Even Mailyn Raines had at one time suggested something similar. The echoing pattern of protestations to his act made for a familiar backdrop, especially since he himself questioned the validity of quest on more than one occasion. "You don't understand," Simon says, his voice calm, strained patience. "It is not just a matter of birth. It takes years of training to be able to draw upon the True Source to do the simplest thing. As strength is acquired, it becomes easier to learn, but those initial first steps are the hardest. It is like what you do to heal people. You were born with the potential in you, but if you had not been taught how to heal, you would never have become the healer that you are. The Jedi and the Sith go out in force to find others born with the curse so that they can continue their legacy. They would turn me if they could, and they tried. It is how I know that I could not teach others to resist, because I could not." "But more than that," Simon says as he tries to sit up. This turns out to be a bad idea, and he lets himself settle back onto his bed, disappointment evident on his face. He continues, "More than that... I tried to teach others. Markus Lisardis and Mira were to be my first two students. Now they serve the Jedi, though I still have some small hope of convincing Mira that she has taken the wrong course. If I cannot... then I will do what I have to. Those of us that are cursed to touch the True Source are often drawn to each other, so I need not worry about missing Jedi or Sith. And even if I should... even if I should die before my quest is finished... another would be chosen, likely from Telgosse, to take my place and do what must be done. The Jedi were purged before. It was the will of the True Source, and they were helpless to stand up against such a force. It is the will again, and again, their number will be culled so that the galaxy might breathe a sigh of relief." Her brow arches speculatively and reaching around, Satine programs the bed to shift, the back rising in order that Simon might sit upright for awhile. She reaches behind him, rearranging pillows and helping him into a more comfortable position as she replies, "If you say so .... so long as the Sith are destroyed, I myself would be content. But I think that being a force of nature itself, it is unlikely that the spark will die. As you say, they were purged before ... and yet here they are, back again. They were perhaps not so much purged as going through a dormant period. Nature is resilient that way." She leans back noting, "You, however, if you're going to take on any one Sith or otherwise, need to rest more. Is there anything that you need?" Once more, Simon licks his lips. The thin film of cotton had been replaced with a certain tasteless stickiness. He says, donning a friendly smile, "There are two things that I need. I need water, and I need a handful of questions asked. Why are you so curious about the True Source and the my quest? Is it merely because I heal so quickly, or... or do you have a different agenda?" Turning she fetches the first request before starting in on the second one. She offers Simon an enclosed cup with a staw, letting him take a few sips before moving on to his second request. "I am, as a surgeon and a doctor, naturally curious about the world I live in, the creatures that inhabit it, and anything that does not follow the natural order as I understand it. So to answer your question, part of my interest is the fascination with the healing powers that you possess, but it does me little good for this is not a power that I possess. I have reasons to hate the Sith and Palpatine in particular. Anything or anyone that can bring about his demise is, in my estimation, worth investing time and energy into understanding and, in your case, supporting by keeping you alive. I have no agenda for you ... I would not be such a fool as to think I could sway you to any particular task of mine. It is good to know that at least in part we stand on the same side." Ah, that was better. Again, the question of how long he'd actually been asleep springs to his mind, but he pushes it away for another, more interesting subject. He says, "Palpatine... that is the name of the monster that called lightning down on me? He I intend to destory before even the Jedi. Did you hear his words? His spoke of destroying people by draining thier soul, crushing their spirit, and discarding their bodies like dead wood. The Jedi rape the spirit, but he intends to murder it. Which would you think is the greater evil, Healer Satine?" Her voice is cold, frosty as she shakes her head, replying simply, "He lies. He rapes the spirit. Takes it away inch by agonizing inch. Relishes in the carnage, making you watch as he takes those closest to you, one by one, finally closing in on oneself." Those pale gray irises are like chips of fogged ice as Satine hists softly, "There is no comparison to the Jedi. Palpatine is not more evil, he is pure evil." A silence stretches out awkwardly for a moment, only interrupted by the sound of medical instruments chirping quietly to themselves, sounding in Simon's ears like the cooing and preening of a roosted bird. Simon breaks the silence then, his voice slightly gruff, "Then we are truly on the same side, Healer Satine. I owe you my life. Perhaps I will repay the debt in the destruction of this vile Palpatine, and the Jedi and Sith that flock to his side." A considerate pause, then, "You know that Jedi serve him, do you not?" "If you speak of the woman, Jessalyn, then I would say that I believe she is being controlled by him. I was asked to treat her and could tell right away that she was not in her right mind. Her friends all knew that she was somehow changed ... that there was a darkness within her. She had been in a battle ... I suspect that Palpatine used ... his powers to ensnare and control her." Her shoulders lift and fall as she returns, "I care not who falls with him, if they are his servants. But I think that if he is to fall, that only with a united front, with others who can wield the True Source, will there be any chance of success." Her gaze lifts to his, sharp and intense as she wraps her arms about herself to keep from shivering and asks, "Are you willing to stand side by side with one enemy to destroy a greater and more evil one?" Turning his eyes away from Satine, Simon brings his right hand up to his chin to stroke the hairs of his goatee thoughtfully. He blinks after a moment, pausing in the surprise of feeling the bare skin of his chin. Lowering his hand back to side slowly, he purses his lips before turning back to Satine and saying, "I will do what I must. If it is sheer folly to break myself against Palpatine's powers, then I will side those that I can side with to fight him. If I could turn Mira from her path of corruption, then she could be useful, but nowhere near strong enough. Cort Stasus might have such strength, but he is too bent on fighting the Empire to pay any more attention to me. I do not even know where he is any longer. That leaves... The Jedi Master, and the self proclaimed Master of Darkness, Emperor Valak. Really only one choice, actually." "That only you can decide for yourself," Satine murmurs softly. "I am certain that any who stand now Palpatine will see as a threat and deserving of punishment. Luke Skywalker is his destroyer. Valak his ursurper. He will tolerate neither. If they will not be turned ... then they will be destroyed." Simon had grown up in a part of the galaxy that had lived blissfully ignorant of the rise and fall of Palpatine. As Satine describes Luke Skywalker as Palpatine's destroyer, his brown furrows in confusion and curiosity. He says nothing of the question that comes to mind, however. Satine's statement had the feel of finality to it, signifying their conversation coming to a close. Raising his chin slightly, Simon says, looking unblinking into Satine's eyes, "Thank you for my health, Healer Satine. As I said, I am in your debt." "If you destroy Palpatine, then I will be in yours," she notes firmly. In an uncharacteristic display Satine leans close, pressing a light kiss to Simon's forehead and murmuring, "Now rest ... we'll talk more tomorrow ..." A genuine smile spreads on Simon's lips as Satine withdraws. There is little really nothing more for him to say. This strange woman had held him from slipping into the Last Embrace, and had spoken with him in a way that was refreshing compared to the sorts of arguments he ran into when presenting his case against the Jedi with others. It would seem that he may have found one more person to trust. Turning his eyes from her withdrawal, he glances once again toward the instruments that she'd pointed out before, the read-out on the displays signifying something in what was likely some secret tongue of Healers, incomprehensible to the likes of Simon. The lights blinked coldly from that panel, the way a predator's eyes flashed in the great woods, just before launching upon its prey. Technological magics. That Satine had left him with. Could he really trust anybody? Simon and Satine